


Eat

by OzQueen



Series: CP 100 situations [27]
Category: Captain Planet and the Planeteers
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Romantic Friendship, midnight snack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:24:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/pseuds/OzQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wheeler and Linka make the most of their location and indulge in a midnight snack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eat

**Author's Note:**

> For the 'eat' square on my 100 situations card, and 'taste' on my [cottoncandy_bingo](http://sweetcarousel.dreamwidth.org/115340.html) card. 
> 
> My first CP fic in over a year, oop.

Linka leaned her forehead against the chilled glass of the vending machine, the coloured candy wrappers and soda bottles all sliding and blurring in front of her tired eyes.

“Hey, babe.”

She sighed, breath fogging against the glass. “It took my dollar,” she said sullenly.

Wheeler gave a soft laugh behind her. “Hungry, huh?”

“Mm,” she hummed, pushing her thumb against the vending machine buttons again.

Wheeler took her hand and tugged gently. “C'mon,” he said. “If you're gonna have a midnight snack, you're gonna do it right.”

-

Linka was too tired to protest as Wheeler led her out into the street. The night air was warm, and it was late, but the city was lit up and their shadows spun and flickered on the sidewalk around them as they strolled hand-in-hand.

There were still people spilling from doorways of buildings; music thumped in a dull rhythm behind the walls.

“Where are we going?” Linka asked, irritable. It was _late_ , after all, and she had bruises on her knees and her ribs still felt tender, and exhaustion was a dead weight across her eyes. All she'd wanted was a quick snack before bed. The _other_ Planeteers were in bed, slumbering away the memories of their last mission.

“Trust me,” Wheeler said.

“Trust you,” Linka muttered.

He flashed a grin at her and tugged her along beside him.

-

They ended up in a corner diner, lights bright above them, red sunken booths and laminated menus. Wheeler ordered for her while Linka rested her chin tiredly in her hand and gazed past her own reflection in the window to the street outside.

Her stomach felt hollow, but she couldn't help but think she was more tired than anything, and she regretted letting Wheeler talk her out of a quick snack from the vending machine before she could tumble into her soft, wide hotel bed.

“Quite a day, huh,” Wheeler said, and even the tone of his voice seemed duller, his smile not quite reaching his eyes like it usually did.

“A long day,” Linka said, nodding.

“You'll feel better about it when you've eaten somethin',” Wheeler said confidently.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I will?”

“Sure,” he said, waving his hand and settling back against the padded seat behind him. “Much better than a packet of chips from a vending machine.”

“We will see,” Linka said archly, not yet willing to give in.

Her mouth watered, though, when the warmed plate of fries and a burger thick with cheese and ketchup was set down in front of her.

“Too bad the others are missing out,” Wheeler said, not really sounding sorry at all. He dragged a fry through a pool of ketchup on the side of his plate and grinned at her. “Their loss, huh.”

“Kwame will not forgive you,” Linka said, smiling back at him.

“I don't care,” Wheeler sighed happily. “This was so worth it.”

They ate in silence for a while, listening to the chatter from the other booths around them and grinning at one another now and then between bites of burger or cold mouthfuls of soda.

“You were right,” Linka conceded after a while. “This is much better than a snack from a vending machine.”

“Hey, I was right,” Wheeler repeated, a smug glow practically radiating off him. “Will you admit that in front of the others at breakfast tomorrow?”

“Is this not breakfast?” Linka asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Who knows?” Wheeler said, looking at his watch. “I've got nine o'clock, and I know that ain't right.”

Linka nodded. It was a lot later than nine – after midnight, maybe, though there were still plenty of people out and about. “What day is it?” she asked after a moment.

“Tuesday?” Wheeler asked.

They both shrugged, and Linka gave a soft laugh. “Jet lag,” she said, pulling a face.

Linka finished her burger but pushed the rest of her fries towards Wheeler, too full to manage all of them. She yawned into her napkin and watched him sleepily, more content now they'd eaten.

Wheeler eventually pushed his plate away with a happy sigh. “Don't feel human until I’ve eaten,” he said. He flexed his fingers, stretching the skin around his grazed knuckles. “How'd you fare this time?” he asked.

“Bruised knees, and he hit me in the ribs with that stupid stick of his,” Linka said, cupping a hand around the bruise she was sure was under her t-shirt.

They compared bruises for a while, until the waitress came past in her red and white uniform and asked if they wanted dessert.

Linka shook her head, but Wheeler ordered a slice of strawberry pie and ice cream.

“How can you still be hungry?” Linka asked incredulously. It never ceased to amaze her just how much Wheeler could eat in any one sitting.

“Hey, we're not stranded in the jungle or the desert for once,” Wheeler said, raising an eyebrow. “We've got an overnight stop in a place with all-night burgers and pie, and I'm gonna take advantage of it.”

Linka grinned at him and rested her cheek in her hand, feeling tired again. She almost wished Wheeler hadn't ordered anything else; she wanted to go back to the hotel and tumble into bed.

She had to admit, though, it was nice sitting in the booth in the diner, too – low chatter and laughter around them, old rock 'n' roll records drifting from the jukebox in the far corner.

Wheeler took a bite of his pie and fell back with a groan. “This is so good,” he said, vanilla ice cream on his lips. He passed his spoon over to Linka. “One bite,” he said. “You won't regret it.”

Linka heaved a sigh as though he was causing her a great inconvenience, but her eyelashes fluttered closed as she took in the warm, flaky pastry and the tart strawberries, the softly-melted vanilla ice cream.

“Good, right?” Wheeler asked happily, pulling the spoon from her loose fingers.

“Very good,” Linka agreed.

“So that's twice I’ve been right tonight,” Wheeler added cheekily, scooping another mouthful onto his spoon.

She fought a smile. “Do not push your luck, Wheeler.”

He laughed and held the spoon towards her again, nudging the plate to the middle of their table.

She relented, though she really _was_ too full to be even considering eating more. The pie was delicious though – warm and just tart enough to counter the sweetness of the ice cream; a perfect blend of Linka's favourite flavours.

“Why strawberry?” she asked Wheeler after a moment. “Is it not the proper American choice to order apple?” She passed the spoon back to him.

“Yeah, but you look more like a strawberry sort of girl,” he said with a grin.

“You are making a lot of assumptions tonight.”

“I'm right on most of 'em though, huh?” Wheeler asked.

She found herself smiling back at him, and leaned forward when he held another mouthful of pie towards her, ice cream melting slowly on the spoon.

-

They were both drowsy as they made their way back to the hotel. Linka let Wheeler take her hand again and they weaved slowly up the sidewalk, feet scuffing tiredly, eyes glazed, bodies warm and full.

“You know what else is great about being able to spend the night somewhere that's not, like, a desert, or a jungle, or a cave, or a jail cell somewhere?” Wheeler asked quietly.

“Hm?” Linka asked. She was almost tired enough to lean her head against his arm as they walked, but she didn't really want to fan the little flame of self-indulgence any more than she already had.

“A big, soft bed,” Wheeler said dreamily. “Almost as good as a burger and a slice of pie.”

“Almost,” Linka agreed.

He grinned at her.

-

Linka was almost asleep by the time they shuffled into the hotel elevator.

“Gonna need me to carry you to bed?” Wheeler asked.

She slumped against the wall and rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Do not even think about it,” she warned him.

He laughed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. After a moment she gave in and leaned against him, almost dozing on her feet. Wheeler's jacket smelled of smoke and ocean, his skin of cheap hotel soap and warmth.

“C'mon,” he said, all too soon. He led her off the elevator to her door, fingers tangled in hers again.

“Thank you for the midnight snack,” Linka said, fumbling with her room key.

“Well, I’m not sure how close to midnight we are, but you're welcome,” Wheeler said. “You can trust me when it comes to food, y'know. I usually know best.”

She laughed and swung her door open. “ _Da_ , you do,” she said. “Goodnight, Wheeler.”

“Night, babe.”

His fingers fell from hers, but she clasped the front of his jacket and stretched up on her toes to press a soft kiss against his mouth, the memory of strawberries and vanilla ice cream still lighting her senses.

“Sweet dreams,” she whispered.

He kissed her again, hands against her waist, stroking slowly and carefully over the thin material of her t-shirt. “Sweet dreams,” he repeated.

She smiled at him, and he grinned back at her until the door to her room closed gently between them.


End file.
